Three Step Story
by Lalita
Summary: {Complete} The first step to recovery is recognition. Then, it's determination. Will Jerin and Aguro follow this plan? As you may have guessed, a Jerin and Aguro fic. Please read and review.
1. Recognition

**~*Three Step Story*~**

by Lalita

Disclaimer~ Yes, I am secretly the owner of Lufia. That is why I have to write fanfictions instead of making more sequels and whatnot. *rolls eyes* I don't own any part of Lufia.

Summary~ The first step to recovery is recognition. Then, it's determination. Will Jerin and Aguro follow this plan?

Author Notes~ This short Aguro/Jerin fic idea popped into my head awhile ago, and so, tada! Here it is. The Hero in this fic is called Max- simply because that's what I named him in my game. Yes, I know, I'm so creative… Anyways, please read and review.

**Chapter One~ Recognition**

            The ocean off the docks of Lorbenia was blue. Of course, all water in lakes and such was blue, but this water was of a hue so deep that one couldn't see more than two inches into it. A small, petite girl looking to be about sixteen dangled her legs over the edge of the dock, her shoulder-length silver blonde hair tossing in the cool breezes sent occasionally her way. The sun's warm rays gave her skin a glowing look as she basked in them, eyes closed and breathing in slowly. The setting was so serene she could almost forget about why she had come here in the first place, why her right knee was scraped in a hasty stumble, and why her eyes were red and her cheeks as salty as the ocean below her. Almost.

            Jerin sighed heavily. "Leave it to that damn, stubborn ass to ruin the moment," she thought wryly. She refused to give that damn, stubborn ass a name. Thinking about that damn, stubborn ass would only make the peace she sought flee. Already, her muscles had tensed and her hand twitched, as if itching to give that bastard the slap he deserved.    

            Jerin leaned over to the ocean and let her hand trail through it. She scooped up a handful of water and rigorously splashed her face with it, as if hoping to erase all the tell-tale signs of their recent fight. One would only think that after living with him for two years, she would have been used to all his annoying habits, all his witless but cruel comments, and the taunts that never seemed to end. Oh, she knew she did her share of prodding and poking, but if he could just look at her as an actual person instead of just some bratty, whiny half-elf with hardly half a brain...

            She glared reproachfully at a stray bird squawking as it swooped down to grab a fish not thirty feet away from her. Stupid bird, interrupting her quiet. Jerin scowled. Alright, she was more or less taking out her frustration with Aguro on the bird, but still. Maybe it was a good thing the bird had cut off her train of thought. Being alone for too long always led to that dangerous path of wayward, absent thoughts she hardly meant at all, and the bird's cry was just the thing to cut off that nonsense. Nay, if she was to think at all, it might as well be about something useful, like finding a new place to live.

            Oh, Aguro had threatened to throw her out often enough, but she had never truly believed he would cast her out to the streets and leave her to live like a beggar. She knew she could find work somewhere, and if she really wanted to, could travel back to her old village, but living with Aguro was like holding on to her only memories of her adventure, of defeating the Sinistrals, of Max... 

            Jerin shook her head. It was not possible that after all these years, she could still be hopelessly infatuated with a man who had eyes only for one person. A person who was dead, who had betrayed them and was all in all a worse brat than she was. Jerin felt a quick stab of envy, followed by a pang of guilt. It wasn't right for her to be taking shots at the dead, especially when the girl she was taking shots at had turned out to save their hides in the end.

            Jerin quickly withdrew her feet from the water, feeling a shiver. Thinking of Lufia always invoked feelings like that. The water, which had minutes before seemed so calm and relaxing, now looked like dark strands of Lufia's hair, wanting to twist around her ankles and yank her in.

            No, she was smart enough to know that her infatuation with Max had been just that- an infatuation, and one she would best be rid of. Max hadn't been seen or heard from since that fateful day when the Sinistrals were finally defeated, the day Lufia had fallen off of Doom Island and was presumed dead. The day when after being transported back to land, Max had left them without a backward glance or a goodbye.

            Jerin felt her throat constrict. She hadn't thought it possible, being an elf, or a half elf, that humans could be wrapped up so tightly in their emotions. Even she hadn't felt much despair and grief over her own parents' deaths. Perhaps it was because she was young, or that in some part of her she understood there would be others to share her life with, but she hadn't even shed a tear. The day Max walked away from her forever was the day she finally cried. She didn't cry only for her loss, but for his loss as well. And that had been the day that Aguro had awkwardly patted her back and offered her a place to live when she confessed she didn't have anywhere else to go. That had been the only day in her life that Aguro had said or done one kind thing for her, and when she felt like chucking a knife at his heart, she reminded herself of it.

            A tall, dark shadow looming behind her made Jerin tense up again and she turned slowly, although she didn't need to to know who was there. Aguro stood a few feet behind her, brooding and utterly contrasting with the moment of nostalgia she had just went through. Aguro was here now, bringing back her present situation.

            "If you haven't come to apologize, then I'd like it if you'd leave," she snapped, turning her gaze back out to the water. Lufia's hair swirled angrily in protest, the ripples in the water looking like the tendrils whipping up, trying to grab at her. Jerin swallowed hard and focused on Aguro's reply.

            "Since when have I based my life on what you'd like?" he said, equally riled. His voice was tense, but it held an undercurrent Jerin couldn't distinguish. 

            Jerin gritted her teeth and stood up, swinging around to face him. "I never said you had to!" she yelled.

            Aguro ignored her. "Everything's about you, isn't it, Jerin?" he demanded. "Who cares if I can't even have a girlfriend because you're there. Who cares if I'm the one putting most of the money into everything. Who cares if everything's been messed up because of you. As long as you get what you want, you're happy."

            Jerin flinched. It was the same dirty accusations as always. Her defenses kicked in again. "Exactly how did I mess everything up?" she asked heatedly. "If I remember right, you were the one who told me I could stay here. You were the one who brought it up!"

            Aguro glared. The wind whipped his emerald hair around his face, temporarily blocking his view of her. "Do you know why I'm not getting that promotion, Jerin?" he growled, and then, not waiting for an answer, said, "It's because of you. My captain feels that he needs a man with more honor to take his place. A man that can marry a woman instead of just living with her and using her."

            Jerin felt cold. "But it's not like that between us," she protested, looking down at her hands. "Doesn't he know that?"

            "We've been living together for two years. We're not even related," he reminded her. "Think about it. If the situation was the same with two other people, don't you think it'd look a little suspicious?"

            Jerin bowed her head, unwilling to let him see the hurt in her eyes. Okay, so he had a point- for once. She felt the familiar sting in her eyes, and almost cursed him right then and there. Stupid human. Whenever she was around him, it was like she didn't even have control of her own emotions anymore. "I guess I'll have to leave then," she said, her voice unsteady and wavering. She turned her back to him, not wanting to see his nod of agreement. She could only imagine what he would say. "About time," or "Thank God," or "Finally," but strangely enough, he said none of these.

            "I'll be packed up by tomorrow," she continued. "I think there's a ship coming in with new items for the stores. I'll wait at the inn until it's done unloading and what, then I'll buy a passage. I'll find somewhere. Maybe I can sign on as a hand or a cook or..." she broke off, realizing she had been rambling and because Aguro was now laughing.

            "You? A cook?" he chuckled. "You'll have to think of something better than that. I don't want to be responsible for them throwing you overboard after your first meal."

            Jerin bristled. "I can cook perfectly fine," she sniffed. "Just because you've been raised on army food and you don't know good food when you taste it doesn't mean that others don't appreciate my cooking."

            "Besides," Aguro interrupted, "you don't have to stay at the inn to wait out for a ship. You'll waste all your gold." He looked at her sharply when she snorted in disbelief. "I'm not all the big bad bastard you think I am."

            "The first step to recovery is realization," Jerin said tartly.

           This time it was Aguro's turn to wince. Fights with Jerin were always like this, more verbal sparring than anything else, and not nearly so satisfying as knocking heads together or blacking eyes. Of course, that was what Aguro usually did in training after a fight with Jerin, to relieve his frustration. He couldn't trust himself not to blow up around her unless he got rid of all his excess energy somehow. Only recently had that tension become on a more sexual level, and so only recently had the whores of Lorbenia been gaining a bit more coin from a certain green haired knight.  

            Of course, Jerin didn't know about that, and he didn't intend to let her know, either. Then she really would blow up, if she knew that occasionally these whores would enter their house. She really would leave then, even though it wasn't her business what he did with his free time, and something about not having the short, spunky girl with him didn't sit well with him.

            Jerin crossed her arms over her chest and said flatly, "You can leave now, Aguro. You're mission's been accomplished. I'm leaving, which is what you wanted all along, isn't it?"

           The accusation was flung across the air and it hung between them. The waves crashed on the side of the dock harder, higher, rising almost as high as the unresolved stress between the two. Jerin fixed Aguro with a steady gaze. The gauntlet was thrown. There was no way he could turn down the challenge now.

            They locked gazes, both too prideful to look away, not caring what their eyes revealed. "What makes you say that?" Aguro asked slowly.

            Jerin barked a bitter laugh. "Please, Aguro," she said. "I know it's hard, but try to act as if you have some intelligence."

            Aguro squinted, going through his mind and recalling all the times they'd come to blows. Roaring, furious, he'd yelled more often than not that he'd rather her be gone, and just last month he'd demanded when she was going to find a new home. But it wasn't as if he had meant any of it, though his life would be much less complicated without her in it. "Alright," he conceded, "you have a point."

            "When don't I?" Jerin said smugly. Aguro mentally groaned. Dealing with women was always impossible, but Jerin was doubly worse. There were times when she could match him for stubbornness, grit, gall....

            He shook his head. "You're impossible, you know that?" he told her, voicing his thoughts.

            "And you're an ass," she shot back. She didn't care if Aguro had opened a door for reasonable conversation. She was angrier than a hornet, and she felt like stinging him just as bad as one.

            Aguro knew that no words could soothe or placate Jerin when she was in this mood. Not that he'd put the effort into it, anyway. The damn woman. Damn, fool woman...

            Aguro nearly jumped. Since when had he started thinking of Jerin as a woman, instead of a mere girl? Was it because her face had lost the pudgy roundness, because her eyes, large and expressive, had a fire of their own? Was it because her body, though still small, really had started maturing? Aguro absently raked a hand through his tangled hair. He wasn't hitting the point. His recent attraction to her couldn't be just because of her looks, because if that was all it took for any woman, he'd have been married ten times already.

            "Hello? Aguro?" Jerin waved a hand impatiently in front of his face. "Deep in thought, are we? I never thought I'd live to see the day you put any brain power into anything."   

            Her remark brought Aguro back to his senses. "You know you'll live longer than I," he said, amused to watch her reaction to his next words. "For all I know, you could be lying to me and really be one-hundred years old. You never can tell with an elf."

            She turned red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She hated the mention of her age. "That blush really is becoming of her," Aguro thought idly. "I suppose that's why most married couples can forgive and forget. Women are much more beautiful when angry."      

            If that was the case, he could see why Max had fallen so hard for Lufia. Aguro never had been attracted to her, despite her beauty. She didn't smile enough, and was far too jealous and protective for his tastes. But it was plain for all to see that Max was in love with her, even if he didn't realize it himself. It had also been painfully obvious to see that Jerin was equally besotted with Max as Lufia.

            His mind went back through the haze of memories to the time Jerin and Lufia had a fight over their hair, girlish as they still were. Lufia had spitefully said Jerin looked like a boy with her hair cropped short, and Jerin had turned as red as a ripe tomato. Maybe that was why she had been growing her hair out longer, even though she had always told him it was much more sensible to have short hair that didn't get in the way. Even though she had told Lufia she wasn't so vain as to put her hair before more important things, like being useful to the team.

            He wondered if Jerin felt guilty over Lufia's death. It certainly hadn't won her Max, and all their confrontations must have lingered in her mind, always there to set her off into a melancholy mood of regret, in which she would come here. And when he asked what was wrong, she would throw a fit like a child, insisting nothing was wrong and why didn't he just leave her alone?

            "I am not old," she said crossly, her face pinched. Aguro couldn't explain why, but he had a sudden urge to tweak her nose. It was what his older sister had always done to him when he was younger, when he was pouting and putting on his "sour apple face."

            "It looks like I'm not the only one in denial, then," Aguro bantered, a wide smirk taking place on his face.

            Jerin's eyebrows lowered ominously and the familiar furrow in her forehead deepened. "Better watch out," he told her, "else those lines or your face will be permanent and then you really will look like an old woman."

            Jerin's eyes blazed in anger. "You... You..." she sputtered, apparently unable to come up with a name foul enough to suit him.

            "Me... Me..." he mimicked her, knowing he was probably pressing buttons he shouldn't.

            Jerin's hands curled into two small, balled fists. Her nails, whatever little was left that she didn't bite off, dug into her skin. "I hate you!" she spat out, then, brushing past him so swiftly so that he wouldn't see her tears, she held her head high and stormed off.

            Aguro followed her, relentless. "Do you now?" he asked her, grinning widely. "That's why you live with me, right?"

            The insinuations his comment induced were too much for Jerin to think about. She turned around again, not caring if he saw her tear-stained face. "You're so insensitive! You don't care at all, do you? All you care about is fighting with swords and fists and living your life just the way you want it! And if you don't like me so much either, why do you let me live you?"

            "Maybe because I do care," he suggested, his voice ten decibels more tender than usual.

            Jerin blinked in disbelief. "Ha," she snorted. "Load of dung, that is. If you really cared-"

            "If I didn't care then I wouldn't want to do this," Aguro broke in, then leaned down to softly brush his lips on hers. Jerin hardly had time to register what was happening, to take in his musky scent and the feel of his rough, chapped lips on her own before he broke away and it was over. She stared at him, gawked, really. 

            "What?" she managed to choke out. She never had put much stock in the feminine trait of fainting, but by God, the way her heart was pounding she wouldn't be surprised if she joined that rank of ninnies!

            Aguro shrugged. Jerin felt so confused, there only seemed to be one thing to do to rectify the situation. 

            She smacked Aguro squarely across the face.


	2. Recognition, Part II

**~*Three Step Story*~**

**by Lalita**

**Disclaimer~ **Fortunately for all of you, I don't own Lufia.****

**Summary~ The first step to recovery is recognition.  Then, it's determination.  Will Aguro and Jerin follow this plan?**

**Author's Notes~ **Here's the long awaited Chapter Two!  *gasps*  Is it so?  Did Lalita the Procrastinator finally update?  Only thanks to the reviewers!  **C.R. Carter- **You really think it was cute?  *blushes*  There's not much fluff in this chapter…  Glad I got it in while I still could.  *glares at all the 10 year olds trying to take over ff.net*  Down with the noobs!  Down with the noobs!  **The Jack of Spades- **Well thank you!  I pretty much forgot about Jerin and Aguro, too, until I picked up the game the other day and since then it won't leave me alone!  **Shade-Duelist- **I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long!!!  **Elizabeth Whittaker- ***blushes again*  You're an amazing author.  Don't laugh at me, but I really am… well honored you reviewed my fic.  *dies of embarrassment*  I'm an idiot, I know.  No need to tell me.  But thanks!  I'm surprised people laughed… Normally I don't write funny fics.  ^___^

Suggestions and comments are greatly appreciated!****

**Chapter Two~ Recognition, Part II**

One week, two days later.  One week, two days later and Aguro was still sporting a sore cheek.  He couldn't bring himself to grin and laugh the incident off or even frown, because his right cheek was frozen in the exact position it had been in when _she _slapped him.

            Okay, so he was exaggerating a bit.  He didn't have a bruise, and the red left from the sting had faded away, but Aguro would have to remember that the next time he riled Jerin enough so that she wanted to slap him, he would duck.  He had damned well forgotten the little brat was full of wiry strength.  He supposed their journey had done its share of building her up.  

            Muttering about the crazy wiles of females, Aguro set out to the field that would serve as the training spot that day for the new recruits.  It was well before sunrise, and the brisk morning chill helped to clear his mind.  His stomach grumbled, reminding him he had been forced to live off meager army gruel ever since, as Jerin had dubbed it, "The Accident."  She wasn't referring to her slapping him- nay, that had been intentional. 

            Aguro scratched his head absently.  Why the bloody hell had he kissed her?  He wouldn't have if he'd known what he'd get for it.  Bloody hellcat.

            "Commander!"  Aguro turned at the sound of his name.  A gangly youth raced up to him, saluting him while catching his breath.  "Sir."

            Aguro waved him on impatiently.  He had better things to do than listen to some half-witted boy.  He could be training his troops- not that the idea held much appeal.  "What?" he barked.

            "There's been an attack on Grenoble," the boy gasped, wasting no time exchanging pleasantries.  "The monsters in the cave killed the clerk and guard and now they've reached the town.  Half the town's holed up in the Trading Post, the other half bein' slaughtered as we speak.  General told me to get you right away."

            Aguro snapped into defensive mode.  He immediately increased his pace for the barracks, leaving the boy struggling to keep up with his longer stride.  "Where are they, boy?" he growled, his mind racing.  Why would monsters attack Grenoble?  Why now?  There were no monsters.  The Sinistrals were dead.  The cave in Grenoble had become somewhat of a laugh since the monsters fled, the challenge for hunting the treasures something a tyke could more or less accomplish.  So where had the monsters come from?  What the hell was going on?

            "They're already suited up to go and be headin' out soon," was the reply.  Aguro growled in frustration.  Why the hell they'd figured on leaving without him he'd never guess.

            "Please, sir."  The boy, whoever he was, tugged on Aguro's sleeve.  His tone was earnest.  "I want to go."

            The boy was pale, his eyes buggy, and his frame thin.  He didn't look strong enough to pick up a rock and toss it like the tykes did, much less take up the sword and fight.  "At any minute a gust of wind could take him off his feet," Aguro scoffed.  Aloud, however, he said, "What's your name?"

            "Dan.  My name is Dan."

            "Well then, Dan, why do you want to be going to battle?  Don't you think you'd be more ready... next year?"

            Dan lifted his chin stubbornly.  "I'm thirteen summers already," he protested, "and I'm plenty strong.  I can carry all my sister's dresses after there's been a big sale."

            Aguro stifled a chortle.  "Alright then," he said, and opened the doors to the barracks.  Dan gasped appreciatively behind him as he hefted a gleaming ax off the wall.  Sturdy, long, with a good grip and its only ornamentation a single emerald by the hilt, the ax had proved to be a worthwhile companion in past days...  Aguro grinned wryly.  Jerin never had let him keep it in the house, saying one day she'd be dusting it and accidentally chop off her finger, to which he had cheerfully replied, "Oh, cleaning's what you've been doing all this time?  I never noticed."

            Dan's eyes were wide as he gazed at the plates of armor strewn carelessly around.  Aguro grimaced.  He'd really have to teach his soldiers more about the habits of cleanliness...  Dan lifted a bronze helmet and studied his reflection in it, then discarded it and touched a silver plate in awe.  He looked timid at first, but then his curiosity spurred him on to lift a small steel knife and brandish it in the air.

            Aguro chuckled and examined the knife.  "This won't help that much in battle," he explained, then grabbed a wooden helmet used for training and stuck it on Dan's head, "but keep it anyway."

            Dan heaped his thanks as they emerged outside again.  The sun was rising, sending streaks of pink and deeper reds through the sky.  Lorbenia was awakening.  Women wearily opened their windows to let in the fresh air while sending out their bouncing tykes to fetch water from the well.  The seamen had been up for some time, and now stood smoking pipes by the docks and surveying the sunrise before returning to load their cargo.  And still more curious glances followed them as they passed by to the outskirts of town, people wondering why on earth Aguro was roaming with his armor on and a boy in tow.

            They passed his house, or, rather, the one that Jerin had practically been the only occupant of as of late.  The shutters were still closed.  Aguro sighed.  He's hoped to get a glimpse of her, maybe even on all fours over the garden she so loved, her skirt riding up past her ankles...  He shook his head to clear it.  She'd always been a late riser, and besides, now was not the time for these thoughts.  

            The dispatch had already been sent, that was obvious.  Aguro made a sharp turn for the stables.  Horses never had been the most comfortable mode of transportation for him, but it would get them there fast, and time was the key.  

            The Horse master, Jenks, was wiping his hands off on a dusty cloth when they entered.  A somewhat pudgy man, it was apparent he was far past youth.  Flecks of gray decorated his temples and his jowls quivered when he spoke.  His belly straining against his apron, he approached them and narrowed his already beady eyes.  "Commander," he said, plastering a smile on his face, "they said you'd be coming."

            Aguro nodded tersely.  He didn't like Jenks, never had.  The man's eyes shifted too much and he was nosy, always butting into affairs that were none of his concern.  In Lorbenia, no woman held the title of town gossip.  It was Jenks.

            Jenks licked his lips, obviously eager to know why the military had left in such a hurry.  But Aguro knew the art of secrecy, and he would not give the man the satisfaction of sending the whole town into a panic.  "How much?" he asked.

            "Twelve gold coins."  Jenks smiled.  His teeth were yellow.

            "Nine."

            "Twelve."

            "Ten."

            A bead of sweat appeared on Jenks's brow.  "Twelve," he said, and spat into the ground dangerously close to Aguro's boots.

            "Ten."

            The bartering continued on, until Aguro impatiently flicked ten gold coins to Jenks.  Jenks looked down at the small cloth bag, then snapped his fingers.  A stableman led out a gelding, freshly saddled and immaculately groomed.  Aguro glared at Jenks.  He had the sneaking suspicion the Horse master had already been paid his due by his comrades.  The weasel.

            Aguro placed one foot in the stirrup and hefted himself up.  With one strong, bronzed arm he scooped up Dan and pulled him up behind him.  Jenks slapped the horse's rump and Aguro and Dan thundered out as if the devil himself were at their heels.  Looking back at Jenks, Aguro thought it was hardly far from the truth.

            The gelding was fast, with a sleek brown coat.  The countryside flew by them as they sped down the dusty road connecting Grenoble to Lorbenia.  Not once did the horse trip in the ruts left by carts in the road, nor did he shy away when the stench of smoke and death became apparent.  Dan clung to Aguro's back, boyishly smiling as the wind whipped his cheeks, but the smile was soon erased as they neared the town.  No sooner had they glimpsed the light blue shores of the lake than the destruction became evident.

            Aguro slowed the horse's pace to a clipped trot so he could take in the scene sprawled before them.  Grenoble, a small town in the first place, was now nearly half its previous size.  Aguro's stomach clenched.  Ash blackened the grass, the flowers that had once grown so abundantly.  Many buildings had crumbled and fallen under the attack.  The Inn, one of the first sights upon entering the town, was reduced to a pile of rubble and charred wood.  A hand hung out limply from underneath a particularly large beam that had collapsed in the fire.  Aguro quickly turned the horse so that Dan didn't see the look of horror on the dead man's face, grotesque, and still carrying the smell of burning skin.

            Dan's grip unconsciously tightened on Aguro's middle as they rode passed the church, one of the few foundations in the town that had been laid mostly with stone.  The roof was gone and the polished blocks brown, but it was still standing.  "Stay here," Aguro commanded Dan as he halted the horse.  He dismounted, trying to ignore the feeling of uneasiness deep in his belly as he neared the holy place.  He was a man that had never been comfortable with religion, never having stepped foot into the place when he was young except to filch from the offering tray.  Aguro winced as he remembered those days, being an urchin on the street forced to fight for maggot-infested crumbs of bread.  Jerin always complained he had too hard a disposition, but how could one not have such an attitude raised as he was?

            The lock on the church door roused Aguro from his reverie.  The door was heavy, solid oak and boarded from top to bottom with a padlock thrown in for good measure.  Whoever had closed the place, they had wanted to be certain no one would enter.  Aguro walked to the side and grabbed a smoldering piece of wood, then used it to smash a stained glass window.  The glass, already cracked, fell away easily, raining down on the inside rather than out.  Aguro looked inside and heaved a great sigh of relief.  There were no corpses strewn about as he had expected, just five rows of empty pews and the blue glass of the Virgin's robe glinting dully as the sun streamed through the roof.  He was about to step out when he saw an old man, fairly plump, hunched over the altar.  Aguro turned the man over.  He was dead, an ax splitting the back of his head in half and caked with dry blood.  Crimson blended in almost imperceptibly with the black robes.  

            Aguro wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the dead Preacher.  He observed long enough to note that the ax was a man made weapon, and not the crude kinds monsters usually carried.  Its handle was covered with a rough cloth.  And in the man's eyes there was no fear, no wide eyed expression of terror.  Just an acceptance.  A calm acceptance of facts.

            "The cave monsters didn't do this," he decided.  The murder was too clean, too careful.  He released the man.  "It was another kind of monster.  The kind found in desperate men."  He crossed himself and went out the way he entered.

            Dan was shifting anxiously in the saddle.  "I thought you was attacked," he said, scanning him quickly for signs of injury.  "Find any monsters?"

            Aguro clumsily lifted his weight onto the horse.  "Nay," he replied, "not any of the sort we were expecting."

            "You think they be gone then?"  Dan asked, his tone nonchalant.  His face looked half-relieved and half-disappointed.

            "Probably.  But if there's a few of them left, I wouldn't be surprised."  Aguro gave him a mock glare.  "Be ye ready, Lieutenant Dan?"

            Dan suppressed a giggle.  "Aye, sir!"  He thrust a mock sword through the air.  "I will fight to the death and if needs be, beyond!"

            "Careful you don't take out your own eye, first."  Aguro ruffled the boy's hair, the first sign of affection he could ever remember showing a child.  A strange look overtook his face before he replaced it with his usual stoic one.  What was he thinking, playing with the boy in such a situation?  He never should have taken him along in the first place.  So why had he?

            His thoughts wouldn't settle.

            The jovial mood vaporized into thin air as they neared the Trading Post.  This was where the task givers resided, where all the adventurous souls in the continent at one time or another visited.  There were several horses nervously pawing the ground outside, all under the not so watchful eye of the banner man.  The Lorbenian army flag fluttered dismally in the wind, and Aguro fought a wave of revulsion.  What purpose did the flag serve here?  To proclaim to the few survivors how Lorbenia prospered, how much time the Lorbenian army had wasted by preparing a banner and pretty garments?

            Aguro again dismounted and handed the reins to the startled banner man.  Dan followed him, curiously surveying the fine pieces of horseflesh around them, and then the banner man himself decorated in deep blue finery.  By the look of puzzlement on his face, Aguro could tell Dan was every bit as confused as he why such primping was necessary when lives were at stake.  "Armies never change," Aguro thought grimly, and strode through the already kicked open door.

            The front room was a disaster.  Bookshelves tossed to the floor, the crates of newly arrived stock broken open and in shambles.  Scorch marks lined the walls, but the floor held steady.  Near the back where the stairs led to the basement a trap door had been flung open, and as they descended into the murky darkness Aguro noted the claw marks that had rendered the door useless.

            He drew his ax, telling Dan to keep close behind him.  He had no doubt the military had secured things, but one never knew.  Being caught unaware was just as bad, nay, worse than not having any weapons or experience in combat.  Even a boy like Dan, with the right sword, could lob off the head of a troll with the element of surprise in his cards.

            There was a dim light at the end of the hall, looking to come out from under the crack of a poorly re-attached door.  As they came closer they could distinguish murmurs, starting soft and then getting louder as the conversation reached its pinnacle.  

            Aguro frowned.  It sounded as if a good many townsfolk had been saved.  The damage outside and the number alive didn't match up.

            "You have brought this destruction upon yourselves."  Aguro clearly heard the voice of his Superior ring out.  A furrow of confusion reached his forehead before he calmly cut the ropes binding the door with Dan's knife, and then, setting it to the side, entered the already cramped room.

            Faces swerved immediately in their direction, followed by a few gasps of surprise and raised eyebrows.  "Just what we need, another one," some voice in the back of the room said scathingly.  A child complained about the heat and was rewarded with a sharp slap from his mother and a warning to be quiet.

            Aguro met the hard look sent to him by General Barlington.  "Stand down," the look was telling him.  "You'll see soon enough."  Aguro obliged and stepped aside to join the ranks of sweltering soldiers, keeping Dan close behind him.  General Barlington's eyes swept briefly over the boy, then dismissively as he looked him over.  He turned back to face the crowd.

            "You kill your priest in cold blood, cast out his daughter, and still claim this attack a surprise?"  the general said, his tone laced with disgust.

            A man in the crowd, presumably the town leader, stepped forward.  He looked to be biting the inside of his cheek.  "That man was no priest," he spat, "but a demon who plagued us with troubles ever since his arrival!"

            A few mutters of agreement met his statement.  General Barlington held up his hand for silence.  "Your accusations are treasonous without valid proof, Matthew Sparrow.  Do not be so quick to speak!"  He locked eyes with the townsman, challenging him.

            Matthew Sparrow, it seemed, was the weaker man.  He looked away, face flushing.  "We have proof," he said, looking anxiously at his kinsmen.  "Do we not?"

            "There was a pestilence that raged from house to house not one month after he came," a short, wrinkled woman spoke contemptuously.  "Took my grandson and his mum, it did, and for all that man's prayers it only got worse."

            "He was no man of God!  I saw him emerge in more than one drink on lonely nights," a stout man with a burly beard proclaimed.  Raucous, coarse laughter followed his words. 

            "Aye, and you'd know, wouldn't you, Randy?"

            Aguro was thoroughly caught off guard.  The people of Grenoble had always before seemed a passive lot, even with all their freethinking and rough ways.  They'd been kind to travelers, hospitable, and willing to share ale on any occasion.  That they would be so callous to kill an innocent man- a pastor, of all things- and not think twice about it unnerved him.  While he wasn't a man of religion, he respected it and knew a life was too precious to waste.  Murder was a nasty business whichever way you looked at it.

            Dan was uncomfortable.  Aguro didn't even have to glance to know the boy was standing rigid, a thin line for his mouth and eyebrows lowering ominously.

            "Enough!" a woman, whom Aguro calculated to be twenty summers or less, shouted over the din.  "Our trials started long before Reverend came!"

            The crowd turned to stare at her, baby clutched in her arms.  She looked afraid, but nevertheless determined.  She haughtily lifted her head higher, daring them to disagree.

            "That may be so," Sparrow said slowly, "but he certainly did nothing to fix them."

            "He was a man of God, not God himself!" the woman protested.  Her eyes shone with a fierceness that suggested a temperament as wild and unruly as her frizzy red hair, now spilling bountifully out of the mop cap her child had tugged loose.

            "Shut up, wench," Randy hissed, face beet red.

            "If you were so against killin' him orf, why didn't _you _stay with your husband at the Inn?"

            Aguro received a mental flashback of the hand underneath the fallen rafters.  The man was forced to suffer too, all for standing up for good?  The woman seemed to shrink, face falling with shame.  Sparrow gripped her shoulder.  "You know what I speak is true, brother," she whispered, then pulled away from his touch and moved to the back of the crowd to sit on a crate and rock her infant.

            "This is revolting," Dan said.  Aguro looked at him, but he continued to stare straight ahead, almost unaware he had just voiced his thoughts aloud.  His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

            "From what I've heard, you killed Reverend Greer because you were lookin' for a scapegoat."

            The room quieted, searching for the source of the voice.  They found it in a thirteen-year-old boy.

            "You were havin' problems, just like everyone does.  Not enough money comin' in from the cave?  Fevers spreadin' cos people don't wash enough?"  Dan's words surged with emotion.  He stepped up, quivering from head to toe but voice steady.  General Barlington glared at Aguro, mentally telling him to put the foolish boy back in his place, but Aguro would do no such thing.

            "What better target than your new minister?  Nobody knew him.  He was an outsider, not knowin' your ways.  You condemned him for accepting the hospitality of your homes and drinks, for not bein' able to give you all a perfect life."

            Several heads dropped guiltily, each person looking at another as if to say, "Not I!"

            "You killed him with no thoughts for all the good he did for you, ungrateful as you were.  You forgot 'bout the times he'd been nursin' those too sick to care for themselves, people who nobody else would touch for fear of gettin' sick themselves.  What happened to the times you'd walk away from his sermons with a warm feelin' in your stomach, the kind that makes you smile all day like a fool, eh?  What happened?"

            Dan continued viciously.  "I'll tell you what happened.  You weren't happy with your lot.  Didn't want to blame yourselves for it, so you used him instead.  You used him!  I don't know how you can live with yourselves."

            "What would've happened if he hadn't been there?  Would you have used her?"  Dan flung a finger at the old woman who'd spoken earlier.  "Or him?"  He pointed at Sparrow.  "Or maybe even a babe?"  Dan's voice broke.

            "But he was there.  He was.  So you plundered your own town a bit, torching the Inn because the man knew what you were doing was wrong.  Then you killed him for it, sayin' he summoned monsters to you..  He was just a scapegoat to you.  Not even a real person.  And I know you did it because I can see it!  And you all know it, too."

            Dan's accusations hung in the air.  He stepped back, tears in his eyes.  But that was where the tears stayed.  He sniffed once, then stood up straight.  Aguro felt a warm rush of pride.  "I underestimated the lad," he realized, thinking guiltily back to his earlier judgment.  Dan, while maybe not tall and brawny, had a sharp mind and true bravery.  He was ten times more a man than many of those in the crowd.  

            He'd underestimated many things, hadn't he?  The evil in people.  Dan.  His army.  Himself.  Max.  Jerin...

            A flash of blonde hair drew his eye.  With a jolt, he recognized the clerk from the cave.  Wavy hair, huge glasses, green robes... right down to the last pimple.  There was no mistaking him.

            He felt sick.  No matter how many times he saw it, the things people were capable of amazed and repulsed him.  The pastor's face flashed before him in his mind.  His eyes, dark brown, almost black.  Acceptance.  A death waiting to happen.  He'd known all along he was going to die, and he'd done nothing to stop it.

            "What's done is done," General Barlington announced, stopping in midstride to the door.  "And since there are no witnesses besides your guilty consciences, you're free to go.  Free to rebuild, and God forbid get another minister," he muttered under his breath.  "And may God have mercy on us all."

            General Barlington strode from the room, soldiers filing out behind him.

            Aguro wasn't aware he'd left the room as well.  He couldn't remember getting on the horse, riding back to Lorbenia.  Dan later told him his face had been as green as his hair on the way back.  But he did remember dropping Dan off at his house, the boy's worried mother rushing forward, first hugging Dan, then admonishing him, then thanking Aguro profusely for keeping her son safe. 

            Back at the stables, General Barlington had laid a calloused hand on his shoulder.  Again, without speaking and in his gruff way he'd said, "I showed you what you needed to see."  He then shrugged and gave Aguro two weeks leave, to "straighten things out."

            The sun had almost set when he stepped outside again.  Deep blues and a few scraggly bloody rays struggled against the night sky.  Aguro looked away.

            All across Lorbenia stores were closing.  Candles dimly lit the interior of scattered houses.  A few men here and there made their way to taverns, some already swaying drunkenly.  Bawdy laughter rang out from the Lady Luck, one of the best-known gambling spots in town.  Mothers peered out their window and called the last tykes in, taking no notice of the weary commander making his way home. 

            Home...  Was it even home anymore?  Aguro didn't know if he could take the stony silence, Jerin's determination to forget "The Accident" and yet to use it to keep a barrier between them.

            "Damn it all," he thought.  He was too tired to care.  He trudged up the steps, took a deep breath, and opened the door.  He'd expected a dark house, Jerin's absence, and the remains of a dead fire in the hearth.

      Instead, he found his cheek, for the second time in his life, on the receiving end of Jerin's palm.


	3. Determination

**Three Step Story**

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**by**** Lalita**

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**Disclaimer **I don't own Lufia. Not the plot, not the idea, not the art, nadda.

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**Summary **The first step to recovery is recognition. Then, it's determination. Will Aguro and Jerin follow this plan?

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**Author's Notes Well**, for all of you still reading this, here's the final chapter! Chapter Three is by far the shortest, but I hope it's also the sweetest and will satisfy the fluff desires of all who read it. (Don't worry, it's not TOO sappy... Promise. )Also, much thankies to everyone who reviewed before! I apologize for the formatting... Grr... This thing doesn't like me. -.- Anyways, and please read and review!

**Chapter Three Determination**

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"Dammit, woman, what was that for?" Aguro demanded, rubbing his cheek. "You could've at least hit the other one."

Jerin glowered at him. "I'll tell you what it was for," she snapped, her hands curling into fists at her side. "It was for leaving here alone without telling me!"

"Who are you, my nanny?" Aguro said incredulously. Of all the crazy females, he had to be stuck with this one. "And I wasn't alone."

"Oh, you had a boy with you! A boy!" Jerin threw up her hands in exasperation. "Much help that is!"

Aguro's temper flared. By God, he was tired, hungry, and confused, and she wasn't doing a thing to improve his mood. And where did she get off insulting Dan? The boy had more courage than she did; avoiding him for days, as if that helped anything. "More help than you ever were!"

Jerin laughed. "That's right," she said scathingly, "I was useless. You would have survived all on your own if I hadn't nursed you to health after Glasgar Tower."

_His head was hot, so hot, so hot... and yet he couldn't stop shivering. Chills racked his body. A low moan escaped his throat, the sound hoarse even to his own muddled mind. Instantly, a cool cloth was pressed to his forehead and he relaxed back onto the pillow. The hand gently touched the side of his face, but the door opened and the soft fingertips left._

_ "How is he?" Max stood in the doorway, quickly eyeing the situation. His voice was strained, resonating like a drum roll in Aguro's head. He frowned. _

_ Jerin shrugged and dipped the cloth back into the water basin. "No better, no worse," she said, "and keep your voice down."_

_ Max's lips thinned. "How long will it be before he's recovered?"_

_ "Hard to say... With my poultice, he could be better in a day, but he keeps fighting me off. At the rate he's going, it'll take a week."_

_ "We don't have a week!" Max erupted, slamming his fist down on a nearby table. "Lufia's gone! We have to get her back!"_

_ Jerin left Aguro's bedside. "I know," she said simply. "I know."_

_ The strength seemed to seep out of Max and he slumped down onto the chair Jerin recently vacated, head in his hands. "If I was a good leader, he wouldn't be hurt. Lufia wouldn't be gone."_

_ Jerin placed her hand on his shoulder. "You _are_ a good leader," she said confidently, "and it's not your fault Aguro's wound got infected. It happens. And as for Lufia..." she stopped, taking in a deep breath. "We'll get her back. You'll see. She'll be alright."_

_ Max looked up at Jerin, looking more like a lost puppy than a man. "How do you know?" _

_ Jerin closed her eyes. "I just know." She took his hand, and then grinned impishly at him. "We elves get these feelings sometimes."_

_ A spark of hope reached Max's eyes and he stood. "I'll be down later to help you give him the potion." He gave Aguro a sideways glance. "He's like a big baby, isn't he?"_

_ Aguro wanted to sit up and tell Max to shut his spiky red ass up, but he couldn't. His muscles felt like jelly, slack and slippery. He couldn't even lift his head, much less stand up and throttle Max to death. _

_ Jerin laughed. "He is," she said, and ruffled his hair affectionately. Aguro stopped his efforts to move, frozen to the spot. She had not just touched his hair. She had not... What made her think she had the right to, anyway?_

_ The door closed, signaling Max's departure. "Am not," Aguro whispered hoarsely. Jerin jumped, thoroughly surprised he'd been awake the whole time._

_ "Good morning, Prince Charming," she said sarcastically. "Nice to see you've left the land of the dead."_

_ He peeked one eye open, then instantly shut it as the world began to spin. "Now I wish I'd stayed there."_

_ Jerin lifted his head to take his pillow out and fluff it, then called out the door for some broth to be brought in. "Nice to see you, too."_

_ Aguro raised his eyebrows. "You could sound a bit more enthusiastic at my unexpected recovery."_

_ "It was hardly unexpected. My poultice works better than anything you humans can come up with."_

_ "Apparently not, for I swear it's your nasty brews that keep me abed."_

_ "You are the most ungrateful patient I've ever dealt with."_

_ "And you're the ugliest nurse I've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on."_

"I thought not," Jerin said, satisfied. She put her hands on her hips and stared petulantly at him.

"Aye, and my taste buds are permanently ruined because of those foul concoctions you forced down my throat!" Aguro said gruffly.

Jerin shook her head. Her face had softened, her fists unclenched. Aguro noticed the sharp marks in her hands, almost deep enough to draw blood. Speaking of blood, she looked like she'd been biting her lip- something she only did when she was nervous or worried. But why would she be worried? Had she worried about _him_?

"You left without a thought or care as to how I might feel," Jerin accused, her voice wavering.

"Well I was hardly going to waste time arguing with you when lives were at stake," Aguro said, crossing his arms.

"You still could have sent someone to _tell _me," Jerin insisted. "As it was, I found out from Jenks's wife you'd left with enough goods to last a week and a fat purse in her husband's hands to keep him quiet."

Aguro clenched his teeth. That bastard. He should have known Jenks would do something like this. "And you believed him?" he asked skeptically.

"Of course not! What do you take me for, the village idiot?" Jerin glared, daring him to say yes. He refused to take the bait. "But I did hear a woman say her boy had been gone over two hours, delivering a message to a Lieutenant. It didn't take much to put two and two together."

Aguro sighed heavily and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. "I didn't think you'd want to see me, much less care if I threw myself in danger's way."

"Didn't think I'd care?" Jerin's voice rose a few decibels. "Didn't think I'd care if you'd have died and the last thing you'd remember about me was a slap and a few angry words?" Bitter tears sprang to her eyes.

Aguro was dumbstruck. "So is this an apology? I have to tell you, it's a sad attempt."

"Apology? You deserved what you got! If anyone should be hearing an apology, it should be me!"

"Excuse me, but I think I'm the injured party here," Aguro snapped. He pointed to the red mark left by Jerin's palm. She blushed, but before she could get in another inane comment, he said, "I'd love to spend all night arguing with you, but I'm sore, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm not in the mood to put up with crap from anyone. Now if you'll shut up and let me be, I'm going to see about grabbing a change of clothes and some coin for the Inn."

Jerin opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. "You know, you could stay here tonight," she said awkwardly.

"Damn straight I could. I just don't want to stay in the same town, let alone the same house as you."

Jerin's mouth thinned. "Alright then," she stormed, and slammed the door to her bedroom. Aguro stared at it, watched the pool of light from the crack of her door disappear as she doused the candle. He stared and stared until the room grew cold and the fire died, until the only light came from the thin sliver of the moon.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to have gone. What the hell was wrong with everyone? What the hell was wrong with Jerin? He came home weary and confused, and all she did was scream at him. Much good that did for anyone. She should have hugged him, fixed him dinner, told him how glad she was that he was unharmed. But in a sense, hadn't she done that? Damn woman. Damn, damn woman.

He slumped against the wall, debating. General Barlington had given him a two-week hiatus. What was he supposed to do? He didn't think he had enough coins in his pocket to last that long at an Inn. There'd be no point to it, anyways. He had a perfectly serviceable bed here. This was his house, and he'd be damned if he let that vixen decide when and where he slept. He was a grown man. He could do what he wanted to.

He pounded unceremoniously on her door. "Wake up, woman," he growled.

"What now?" Jerin mumbled before flinging open the door. Aguro jumped at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes and puffy nose. She'd been crying. "Well?" she asked crankily.

"We need to talk," he said, not able to keep his eyes from drifting over her slim body. She wore only a thin sift, nearly translucent. He felt his blood thunder in his ears.

"Talk?" she laughed bitterly. "I don't think we can do that. No, I know we can't do that. Go to bed, Aguro."

"Just give me a minute," he demanded, and put his foot forward to block her from slamming the door. She glared.

"Time's wasting, Aguro," she snapped. "Better make it worthwhile."

"Come out here and talk to me," he pleaded.

He could see her resolve crumbling. She sighed. "Why? We can't talk to each other more than five minutes without one of us driving the other insane."

"Please?" Aguro tightened his grip on the door. He looked into her eyes, giving her what he hoped passed for a puppy dog look. Last time he'd tried one of those, she'd gleefully informed him he looked like a bulldog in heat.

"Fine," Jerin grumbled, and started to push him out of her way.

"Wait. First... put on a robe," Aguro said hoarsely. Her ears turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, but she agreed and seconds later, the two were facing each other in the simple kitchen. Aguro sincerely hoped they wouldn't argue this time, not with a knife in seconds' reach of Jerin's hand.

"So..." he cleared his throat. She raised her right eyebrow expectantly, then crossed her arms over the front of her ample bosom and leaned against the rough wooden table. "You know we can't go on like this."

"Like what?" she asked lightly.

"Dammit, don't play dumb with me."

Her fingers began to play with the tassels on the end of the tablecloth. "So you're finally admitting I'm smarter than you?"

"Why do you always do this?" He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Sometimes I don't even know why I try."

"Me either," Jerin admitted. She tilted her head to the side and looked at him curiously. "But every time I try to give up, I can't."

Aguro would have had to be blind to see that honest statement had taken a lot of courage from Jerin. Her hands were back to gripping the table. He had the sudden urge to lift one up and trace his lips over her palm.

Jerin cleared her throat nervously. "How bad was Grenoble?" she asked.

Aguro clutched the sudden change of topic like a lifeline. "Bad," he said grimly. "Just a different kind of bad than the kind left by monsters."

Jerin frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Aguro wanted to kiss the little furrow of confusion on her brow, but he restrained himself. Instead, he related the facts to her as briefly and as few as possible. Still, it was enough to make anyone horrified. "That's disgusting," she said, crossing her arms glumly. "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

"Desperate men are powerful. Powerful and crazy."

She shook her head slowly. "And no one stood up? They all just took it?"

"Some did. One that I know of for sure. They died, though."

"That's horrible."

"That's life," he corrected.

She looked at him, startled. "Is that what you honestly think? That life is all horrible? All bad times and no good?"

Aguro leaned back against the wall. "I don't know what to think sometimes," he said, musing aloud.

Jerin nodded. "Sometimes I don't know, either. But then I think about all the good times we had with Max and Lufia, and I realize life isn't all that bad. You take what it throws at you."

"But that's it! We only met each other because of bad times. If things had stayed peaceful, we never would have known the others existed."

"So good things come out of bad."

"It's hard to see it that way, though, when you're talking about innocent people getting killed," Aguro said darkly. He bit the inside of his cheek.

Jerin instinctively stepped closer to him, radiating compassion. "Just because some people are like that doesn't mean we all are. It doesn't mean _you _are, Aguro."

Aguro dropped his head into his hands. "You didn't see it like I did. The pastor. Dead because some man decided that his misfortunes were the poor man's fault. And what else do you have to believe, if you're desperate and near starving? It makes me think. What would I have done if I'd been there? Would I have been the same way?"

"Don't talk like that, Aguro," Jerin said fiercely.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"No," she snapped. She took his hands away from his face and hugged him hard enough to break his bones. "It's not true. You would never blame your problems on anyone but yourself. Sometimes you even take responsibility for the ones that aren't yours. You're a good man, and I know you would have stood up for what was right, just like you always do."

Aguro's jaw clenched. "We defeated evil," he said softly. "Remember? Why wasn't it enough?"

"Oh, Aguro," Jerin whispered, drew herself away from him, "just because evil was defeated once doesn't mean it won't come back."

The two stood in companiable silence, Aguro's brooding mood slipping away, eased by her simple but honest and well-meant words. He sighed. "So what do we do now?"

Jerin shrugged daintily. "I don't know," she said. "I, for one, am tired. How about going to bed?"

The minute the words were out Jerin wished she could reel them back in. It was Aguro's turn to raise his eyebrows. He smirked. Jerin gasped. "Not like that! You know what I mean."

"I surely do," he said, and seconds later lifted her in his arms.

She squealed and kicked her legs. "Put me down!" she wailed, and struggled even harder.

Aguro grunted. "Watch where you're kicking, woman," he warned. Jerin paused to look up at him devilishly. It was all the insensitive he needed.

His mouth crashed down on hers, firm and hard. She gasped in surprise and he took advantage of the opportunity. He slipped his tongue in to silkily caress her own. To his pleasant shock, she responded. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him even closer. She was clumsy, and, Aguro guessed, new to this art at which he had long excelled. He broke the kiss to look down at her, snuggled close to him and breathing just as hard as he was.

"Damn," she whispered breathlessly.

He chuckled. "Watch your tongue, missy. I might have to wash your mouth out with soap."

"I'd rather we find a better use for it," she said, and grinned at him.

He shook his head in amazement. "You never fail to surprise me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was supposed to be one."

"I think this is the longest conversation we've ever had without trying to kill each other."

"Let's make it last then, shall we?"

"Agreed. No more talking," Jerin said. She kissed his cheek.

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